CHAPTER 79: SECRETS BEHIND A NAME

Logan’s hands were trembling, but he still flipped the cover page.

Nolan Ashborn — born 273 years before the Dungeon Era.

His mind was buzzing. Reality and hallucination blurred into one. The pressure in his chest was growing, unbearable. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe properly.

Rowan, still browsing the towering shelves nearby, remained unaware of the storm brewing inside Logan.

But Logan, even with his heart racing and mind faltering, kept turning the pages.

Nolan Ashborn.

The War Hero of Ashenvale.

Reached the Martial Saint realm at the age of 31 — a feat considered legendary.

Logan’s fingers were shaking now, but he couldn’t stop.

He was trained under a master also revered as a legend.

Aiden Ferith.

The name struck Logan like a bolt of lightning.

This time, he couldn’t hold it in.

The book slipped from his hands and hit the marble floor with a sharp, echoing thud.

Rowan turned slightly. His expression shifted from curiosity to concern. He spotted Logan — pale, wide-eyed, frozen in place like he’d seen a ghost.

"What happened?" Rowan asked, stepping closer.

But Logan didn’t respond.

His breath was shallow. His eyes were distant. It was as if his soul had left his body.

"Logan?" Rowan called again, louder.

Still no response.

"Logan!" Rowan shouted this time.

Logan jolted. The sudden noise snapped him back to reality.

He turned to Rowan slowly, blinking like someone waking from a long, disorienting dream. His lips parted, but no words came.

"What happened?" Rowan repeated, gentler now.

"I..." Logan began, but his voice cracked. Nothing else followed. He didn’t know what to say—he didn’t even know what this was.

Was this a dream? A delusion? Or was fate, after all these years, finally revealing its cruel joke?

That one name pounded inside his chest like a caged beast clawing to break free.

Aiden Ferith.

The name he thought had vanished with his death. The identity he had buried. His past... now staring back at him from the pages of a history book.

"What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

There was a long, suffocating silence.

Then, at last, Logan pulled himself together enough to speak.

"Prince... can you do me a favor?" His voice was shaky, but his words were careful. "Can you leave me alone here... in the library? Just for a while. I’d really appreciate it. And once I am done, I promise I will tell you my secrets."

"Ummm..." Rowan hesitated, clearly conflicted. The Royal Library was not a place where where outsiders were allowed. Bringing Logan here had already bent the rules—but leaving him alone now would be crossing the line too far.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to deny the request.

Especially when he was desperate to know Logan’s secret. And one yes could help him reach his goal.

"Don’t worry," Logan added quickly. "I won’t touch anything besides the books you selected for me. And..."

He paused, then pointed slowly to the book on the floor. The one with the familiar name.

His name.

"...That one."

Rowan looked at the fallen book, then at Logan again.

"...Alright," he said at last. "But I can’t promise how long I can let you stay in here. I’ll be right outside. The moment I sense anyone approaching, I’ll have to come in."

Logan gave a slight nod. That was more than enough.

Without another word, Rowan turned and walked toward the exit.

His footsteps echoed through the silent hall like the hammering of a blacksmith in the dead of night—slow, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

If it had been anyone else, Rowan wouldn’t have agreed. Not a chance. But Logan? Logan was different. If there was anyone he could trust on gut instinct alone... it was him. And he was ready to bet on this gutsy feeling of his.

Besides, his father, the King, and the first Queen were away on a coastal tour to the northern provinces. His second brother wasn’t at the palace either. The only one who could raise problems was Elias—and that’s why Rowan decided to stand guard, just outside the door.

He stepped out and leaned beside the arched library gate.

A prince standing as a doorman for a twelve-year-old boy—if anyone saw this, they’d probably drop dead in shock.

Inside the library, Logan still stood unmoving—like his body had been frozen in ice.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally stirred.

He bent down slowly and picked up the book, staring at its worn cover as if it held his entire life.

Slowly, he walked to a nearby table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He placed the book in front of him with trembling hands.

Then he opened it again.

He flipped through the pages, slower this time. He went through every single word not wanting to miss a single thing.

He was desperate.

He needed to know.

He had to know.

What was going on? Why was his name—the name of his former self—mentioned in this world’s history book? And why was his disciple’s name there as well, still remembered even after thousands of years?

The questions clawed at him, threatening to rip apart the fragile calm he was barely holding onto.

But one thing was clear.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Something was unfolding—something buried deep in time.

He continued reading.

Nolan’s master died in the battle against the empire of Nyvaria. He was seriously injured while trying to save his master. But he still failed at last.

After the war he built a memorial of his master.

Then continued to follow his legacy. He conquered empire after empire. He reached the realm of Martial emperor at the age of 72. He tried to advance further but that became the peak of mankind.

He was like a torch bearer. Hope of mankind.

"What the hell is this?" Logan exploded. "He followed my legacy? He got injured trying to save me? What kind of twisted story is this?"

He clenched the book tightly.

"Is it really the Nolan I am thinking about? Or does this world simply have someone else with the same name? It has to be....right?"